Seeing Her
by You-Can't-Catch-Me
Summary: Lemony had to see her again. But who else will be there with his beloved Beatrice? In Lemony's POV.


**This is a oneshot I came up with that has been sitting in my mind for a long time. Enjoy! It's in Lemony Snicket's POV. It takes place about sixteen years before the series ends.**

I couldn't sleep.

Who would I tell? Kit and Jacques were probably asleep in their dormitories. But I figured it wouldn't hurt to check.

Sure enough, my brother and sister were sitting out in the hall. Jacques was reading, and Kit was staring out the window. I wasn't sure if they had noticed me, until Kit spoke up.

"The Snickets are insomniacs," she said with a sigh.

"Yes," Jacques agreed. "Maybe if we just tell each other what we're thinking about, we'll be able to sleep."

"Or," I said. "We could end up getting into one of our discussions that could last until the volunteers all come out for breakfast."

Jacques slammed his book shut. "Always a pessimist, Lemony," he sighed. "Why can't we just try my idea? I'm thinking about Olaf."

"Dewey," said Kit.

"Beatrice," I said. My older siblings turned to me in astonishment.

"Will you let go, Lemony?" Kit asked.

"Beatrice Baudelaire is _married,_" Jacques said.

"And she's probably very pregnant right now," added Kit.

"The point is, she has a family," Jacques pointed out.

"I can't forget about her," I whispered through my teeth. "I've _got _to see her again. Don't you understand?"

Kit sighed, and put her arm around me.

"I know how it feels to be in love, little brother," she said. "And I know how close you came to marrying her. But if you don't forget about it, you could end up killing yourself."

"If our enemies don't get you first," muttered Jacques. Kit looked at him in shock.

"Is sympathy an impossible feeling for you?" she asked.

"But it's true, Kit," he replied angrily. "Think about it."

"I don't _want _to think about it!" she snapped back at him.

"Stop it," I said. "You're just tired. Why don't you two try going back to sleep?" My siblings nodded, and got up to go back to their dormitories.

I sat there alone, thinking about what Kit had said. I wasn't planning on killing myself, and I needed to see Beatrice again. I found that I was finally getting tired.

_I'll ask around in the morning_, I thought. And I went back to bed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I went to a variety of my fellow volunteers, and asked if they had seen or heard from Beatrice. Several thought she was still on the island with her husband, but I knew otherwise. Several said she had died, but that wasn't true either. All around, I found incorrect information. My day had been fruitless. It wasn't until around dinner that Kit found me.

"Dewey told me about you and your seeking for Beatrice," she said. "So I did a little research." I looked up at my sister.

"What did you find?" I asked.

"You've got to promise me this," she said. "Promise that you won't look for her anymore. When I tell you, you'll understand why." I nodded.

"I promise," I said. Kit sighed.

"Beatrice is in the hospital," she said. "She had her baby just yesterday. If you want to find her, she's in room 606." That was all I needed to hear.

It took a long time to get down from the mountains, just to catch a bus. It took even longer to get to the city where Beatrice lived. In addition to that, I sat in a middle seat on the bus, and the people sitting next to me fell asleep, and were leaning on me.

It was late at night when I reached the city. I stepped off the bus, and right under a streetlamp. I quickly dodged the light, so as not to be seen. I was thankful the bus dropped me right in front of the hospital, so I didn't have to do much walking.

I walked into the main lobby of the hospital. I explained who I was visiting, and the woman at the desk seemed to have no suspicion after that. I walked across the hall to the elevators, and took one up to the sixth floor.

Beatrice's room was right near the entrance to the elevator. A strange thing I noticed right away was that her door was propped open. As I neared the room, I could make out the sound of a crying newborn, and the sound of the voice of a woman I hadn't heard from in years. I stepped closer to the room.

I willed myself not to cry as I looked in that room. There was Beatrice, looking tired as ever, with uncombed hair and dark circles under her eyes. But she still looked beautiful. And there was a tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. I regained my composure, and walked into the room.

"That's a beautiful baby girl you have there, Beatrice," I said. She looked up from the baby as if she had seen a ghost.

"Lemony!" she whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you again," I replied. She rolled her tired eyes.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be coming back to see me."

"I wasn't."

"Then why are you here?"

"I thought I already told you." I sat down in a chair.

Beatrice sighed, and looked at her baby.

"For some time, I thought you were dead," she said. "I was heartbroken."

"I'm glad you left the island," I told her. "Having a baby would be very difficult to do there."

"Yes," she agreed with another sigh. "I truly admire anyone who could have a baby there." She closed her eyes, and leaned back. "It was so hard, Lemony. But it was truly worth it."

"I've heard that childbirth is a Herculean task."

"Then you haven't heard the half of it."

"Really."

Beatrice looked down at her baby girl, and then at me.

"Would you like to hold her?" she asked. My eyes widened.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"Would you like to hold her?" Beatrice repeated. I smiled, and nodded. I got up, took the pink bundle from her, and sat back down.

"Hello," I said to the infant. Her eyes opened, and she looked at me in a familiar confused way.

"My God, she looks just like Bertrand when she does that," I said in surprise. The baby poked her hands out of the blanket, and reached up to her head, and twisted her fingers in a strange way. Beatrice laughed.

"She looks like she's tying her hair up," she said with a chuckle.

"By the way, what's her name?" I asked.

"Violet," Beatrice replied.

"Violet," I repeated. "Violet Baudelaire. It has a nice ring to it."

And it was most certainly a name I wouldn't forget.


End file.
